University  of  California. 

FROM   THE   LIBRARY   OF 

DR.    FRANCIS     LIEBER. 
Professor  of  History  and  Law  in  Columbia  College,  N GTT  York. 


THK  GIFT  01- 


MICHAEL    REESE 

Of  San  Fran i 
1ST  3. 


AN 


ORATION 


APRIL  THE  NINETEENTH, 


1825. 


BY  EDWARD  EVERETT. 


BOSTON : 
PUBLISHED  BY  CUMMINGS,  HILLIARD,  AND  COMPANY. 

1825. 


DISTRICT  OF  MASSACHUSETTS,  TO  WIT: 

District  Clerk's  Office. 

BE  IT  REMEMBERED,  that  on  the  twenty-first  day  of  May,  A,  D.  1825, 
in  the  forty-ninth  year  of  the  Independence  of  the  United  States  of  Amer 
ica,  Cummings,  Milliard,  &,  Co.  of  the  said  district,  have  deposited  in  this 
office  the  title  of  a  book,  the  right  whereof  they  claim  as  proprietors, 
in  the  words  following,  to  wit : 

"  An  Oration  delivered  at  Concord,  April  the  nineteenth,  1825.  By 
Edward  Everett." 

In  conformity  to  the  Act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States,  enti 
tled,  "  An  Act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies 
of  maps,  charts,  and  books,  to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  cop 
ies,  during  the  times  therein  mentioned:"  and  also  to  an  Act,  entitled, 
"  An  Act,  supplementary  to  an  Act,  entitled,  *  An  Act  for  the  encourage 
ment  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts,  and  books,  to 
the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  times  therein 
mentioned ;'  and  extending  the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts  of  design 
ing,  engraving,  and  etching  historical,  and  other  prints." 

JNO    W.  DAVIS, 
Clerk  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


University  Press.—  Billiard  Sf  Metcatf. 


Concord,  April  19,  1825. 
Hon.  EDWARD  EVERETT, 

Dear  Sir, 

The  Committee  of  Arrangements  have  instructed  me 
to  express  their  thanks  to  you,  for  the  very  interesting  ad 
dress  delivered  by  you  this  day,  and  to  request  you  to  fa 
vor  them  with  a  copy  for  the  press. 

Your  obedient  servant, 
(Signed)  N.  BROOKS ,{ 


ORATION. 


FELLOW  CITIZENS, 

THE  voice  of  patriotic  and  filial  duty  has 
called  us  together,  to  celebrate  the  fiftieth  anniver 
sary  of  an  ever  memorable  day.  The  subject, 
which  this  occasion  presents  to  our  consideration, 
almost  exceeds  the  grasp  of  the  human  mind. 
The  appearance  of  a  new  state  in  the  great  family 
of  nations  is  one  of  the  most  important  topics  of 
reflection,  that  can  ever  be  addressed  to  us.  In 
the  case  of  America,  the  interest,  the  magnitude, 
and  the  difficulty  of  this  subject  are  immeasurably 
increased.  Our  progress  has  been  so  rapid,  the 
interval  has  been  so  short  between  the  first  planta 
tions  in  the  wilderness  and  the  full  development 
of  our  political  institutions  ;  there  has  been  such  a 
visible  agency  of  single  characters  in  affecting  the 
1 


2 

condition  of  the  country,  such  an  almost  instanta 
neous  expansion  of  single  events  into  consequences 
of  incalculable  importance,  that  we  find  ourselves 
deserted  by  almost  all  the  principles  and  precedents, 
drawn  from  the  analogy  of  other  states.  Men 
have  here  seen,  felt,  and  acted  themselves,  what 
in  most  other  countries  has  been  the  growth  of 
centuries. 

Take  your  station  for  instance  on  Connecticut 
river.  Every  thing  about  you,  whatsoever  you 
behold  or  approach,  bears  witness,  that  you  are  a 
citizen  of  a  powerful  and  prosperous  state.  It  is 
just  seventy  years,  since  the  towns,  which  you  now 
contemplate  with  admiration  as  the  abodes  of  a 
numerous,  increasing,  refined,  enterprising  popula 
tion,,  safe  in  the  enjoyment  of  life's  best  bles 
sings,  were  wasted  and  burned  by  the  savages 
of  the  wilderness  ;  and  their  inhabitants  by  hun 
dreds, — the  old  and  the  young,  the  minister  of 
the  gospel,  and  the  mother  with  her  new  bom 
babe, — were  wakened  at  midnight  by  the  warhoop, 
dragged  from  their  beds,  and  marched  with  bleeding 
feet  across  the  snow-clad  mountains, — to  be  sold  as 
slaves  into  the  cornfields  and  kitchens  of  the 
French  in  Canada.  Go  back  eighty  years  farther  ; 
and  the  same  barbarous  foe  is  on  the  skirts  of  your 


oldest  settlements,  at  your  own  doors.  As  late  as 
1676,  ten  or  twelve  citizens  of  Concord  were 
slain  or  carried  into  captivity,  who  had  gone  to 
meet  the  savage  hordes  in  their  attack  on  Sudbury, 
in  which  the  brave  Captain  Wadsworth  and  his 
companions  fell. 

These  contrasts  regard  the  political  strength  of 
our  country ;  the  growth  in  national  resources 
presents  a  case  of  increase  still  more  astonishing, 
though  less  adapted  to  move  the  feelings.  By 
the  last  valuation,  the  aggregate  property  of  Mas 
sachusetts  is  estimated  at  something  less  than 
three  hundred  millions.  By  the  valuation  made 
in  1780,  the  property  of  Massachusetts  and  Maine 
was  estimated  at  eleven  millions. 

This  unexampled  rapidity  of  our  national 
growth,  while  it  gives  to  our  history  more  than 
the  interest  of  romance,  leaves  us  often  in  doubt, 
what  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the  cooperation  of  a 
train  of  incidents  and  characters,  following  in  long 
succession  upon  each  other ;  and  what  is  to  be 
referred  to  the  vast  influence  of  single  important 
events.  On  the  one  hand,  we  think  we  trace  a 
series  of  causes  and  effects,  running  back  into  the 
history  of  the  dark  ages  in  Europe,  and  visibly 
exerting  an  influence  on  the  American  colonies ; 


and  on  the  other,  we  witness  a  rapidity,  an  ener 
gy,  a  precision  in  the  movements  of  the  nation 
toward  improvement  and  power,  which  seem  to 
characterize  the  agency  of  individual  events  and 
men.  In  the  first  view,  we  feel  constrained  to 
surrender  up  the  fortunes  of  our  country,  as  a  por 
tion  of  the  chain  of  events,  which  lengthens 
onward,  by  blind  fatality,  from  the  creation  of  the 
world,  and  brings  about,  in  each  successive  age, 
the  same  routine  of  rise,  progress,  and  decay. 
In  the  other  view,  we  behold  the  action  of  a  new 
and  original  political  life,  a  fresh  and  hopeful 
national  existence  ;  nourished,  strengthened,  and 
matured  under  the  operation  of  peculiar  causes 
of  unexampled  energy. 

That  great,  that  astonishing  incident  in  human 
affairs,  the  Revolution  of  America,  as  seen  on  the 
day  of  its  portentous,  or  rather  let  me  say,  of  its 
auspicious  commencement,  is  the  theme  of  our 
present  consideration.  To  what  shall  we  direct 
our  thoughts  ?  On  the  one  hand,  wre  behold  a 
connexion  of  events  ;  the  time  and  circumstances 
of  the  original  discovery  ;  the  system  of  coloniza 
tion  ;  the  settlements  of  the  pilgrims ;  their  con 
dition,  temper,  and  institutions ;  their  singular 
political  relation  with  the  mother  country  ;  their 


long  and  doubtful  struggle  with  the  savage  tribes  ; 
their  collisions  with  the  royal  governors  ;  their  co 
operation  in  the  British  wars  ;  with  all  the  influ 
ences  of  their  geographical  and  physical  condition  ; 
uniting  to  constitute  what  I  may  call  the  political 
national  education  of  America,  by  forming  the 
public  mind,  nerving  the  arm,  and  firing  the  heart 
for  the  events  of  that  day,  which  we  now  com 
memorate.  When  we  take  this  survey,  we  feel 
that  we  ought  to  divide  the  honors  of  the  Revo 
lution  with  the  great  men  of  the  colony  in  every 
generation  ;  with  the  Winslows  and  the  Peppefells, 
the  Cookes  and  the  Mathers,  t;he  Winthrops  and 
the  Bradfords,  and  all  who  labored  and  acted  in 
the  cabinet,  the  desk,  or  the  field,  for  the  one 
great  cause.  On  the  other  hand,  when  we  dwell 
upon  the  day  itself,  every  thing  else  seems  lost  in 
the  comparison.  Had  our  forefathers  failed,  on 
that  day  of  trial,  which  we  now  celebrate  ;  had 
their  votes  and  their  resolves  (as  was  taunt 
ingly  predicted  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic) 
ended  in  the  breath,  in  which  they  began  ;  had  the 
rebels  laid  down  their  arms,  as  they  were  command 
ed  ;  and  the  military  stores,  which  had  been  fru 
gally  treasured  up  for  this  crisis,  been,  without  re 
sistance,  destroyed ; — then  the  Revolution  had  been 


at  an  end,  or  rather  never  had  been  begun ;  the  heads 
of  Hancock  and  Adams  and  their  brave  colleagues 
would  have  been  exposed  in  ghastly  triumph  on 
Temple-bar ;  a  military  despotism  would  have  been 
firmly  fixed  in  the  colonies  ;  the  patriots  of  Mas 
sachusetts  would  have  been  doubly  despised,  the 
scorn  of  their  enemies,  the  scorn  of  their  deluded 
countrymen  ;  the  cry  of  liberty,  which  they  had 
raised  from  the  shore  to  the  mountains,  would 
have  been  turned  back  in  a  cry  of  disdain ;  and  the 
heart  of  this  great  people,  then  beating  and  almost 
bursting  for  freedom,  would  have  been  struck 
cold  and  dead,  and,  for  aught  we  can  now  reason, 
forever. 

There  are  those,  who  object  to  such  a  celebra 
tion  as  this,  as  tending  to  keep  up  or  to  awaken  a 
hostile  sentiment  toward  England.  But  I  do  not 
feel  the  force  of  this  scruple.  In  the  first  place, 
it  was  not  England,  but  the  English  ministerial 
party  of  the  day,  and  a  small  circle  in  that  party, 
which  projected  the  measures  that  resulted  in  our 
Revolution.  The  rights  of  America  found  steady 
and  powerful  asserters  in  England.  Lord  Chat 
ham  declared  to  the  House  of  Peers  that  he  was 
glad  America  had  resisted,  and  alluding  to  the 
fact  that  he  had  a  son  in  the  British  army,  he 


added,  "  that  none  of  his  blood  should  serve  in 
this,  detested  cause."  Nay,  even  the  ministers 
that  imposed  the  stamp  duty,  the  measure  which 
hastened  the  spirit  of  America  to  a  crisis,  which 
it  might  not  have  reached  in  a  century,  Lord 
Mansfield,  the  Duke  of  Grafton,  the  Earl  of  Shel- 
burne,  Lord  Camden,  rose,  one  after  another,  and 
asserted  in  the  House  of  Lords,  that  they  had  no 
share  in  the  measures  which  were  proposed  by  the 
very  cabinet,  of  which  they  were  leading  mem 
bers. 

But  I  must  go  further.  Did  faithful  history 
compel  us  to  cast  on  all  England  united  the 
reproach  of  those  measures,  which  drove  our 
fathers  to  arms  ;  and  were  it,  in  consequence,  the 
unavoidable  effect  of  these  celebrations  to  revive 
the  feelings  of  revolutionary  times  in  the  bosoms 
of  the  aged  ;  to  kindle  those  feelings  anew,  in  the 
susceptible  hearts  of  the  young  ;  it  would  still  be 
our  duty,  on  every  becoming  occasion,  in  the 
strongest  colors,  and  in  the  boldest  lines  we  can 
command,  to  retrace  the  picture  of  the  times  that 
tried  men's  souls.  We  owe  it  to  our  fathers,  we 
owe  it  to  our  children.  A  pacific  and  friendly 
feeling  towards  England  is  the  duty  of  this  nation  ; 
but  it  is  not  our  only  duty,  it  is  not  our  first  duty. 


8 

America  owes  an  earlier  and  a  higher  duty  to  the 
great  and  good  men,  who  caused  her  to  be  a 
nation  ;  who,  at  an  expense  of  treasure,  a  con 
tempt  of  peril,  a  prodigality  of  blood — the  purest 
and  noblest  that  ever  flowed, — of  which  we  can 
now  hardly  conceive,  vindicated  to  this  continent 
a  place  among  the  nations  of  the  earth.  I  can 
not  consent,  out  of  tenderness  to  the  memory  of 
the  Gages,  the  Hutchinsons,  the  Grenvilles  and 
Norths,  the  Dartmouths  and  Hillsboroughs,  to 
cast  a  veil  over  the  labors  and  the  sacrifices  of  the 
Quincys,  the  Adamses,  the  Hancocks,  and  the 
Warrens.  I  am  not  willing  to  give  up  to  the 
ploughshare  the  soil  wet  with  our  fathers'  blood  ; 
no  !  not  even  to  plant  the  olive  of  peace  in  the 
furrow. 

There  is  not  a  people  on  earth  so  abject,  as  to 
think  that  national  courtesy  requires  them  to  hush 
up  the  tale  of  the  glorious  exploits  of  their  fathers 
and  countrymen.  France  is  at  peace  with  Austria 
and  Prussia ;  but  she  does  not  demolish  her  beau 
tiful  bridges,  baptized  with  the  names  of  the  bat 
tle  fields,  where  Napoleon  annihilated  their  armies; 
nor  tear  down  the  columns,  moulten  out  of  the 
accumulated  heaps  of  their  captive  artillery. 
England  is  at  peace  with  France  and  Spain,  but 


9 

does  she  suppress  the  names  of  Trafalgar  and  the 
Nile  ;  does  she  overthrow  the  towers  of  Blenheim 
castle,  eternal  monuments  of  the  disasters  of 
France  ;  does  she  tear  down  from  the  rafters  of 
her  chapels,  where  they  have  for  ages  waved 
in  triumph,  consecrated  to  the  God  of  battles,  the 
banners  of  Cressy  and  Agincourt  ? — No  ;  she  is 
wiser  ;  wiser,  did  I  say  ?  she  is  truer,  juster  to  the 
memory  of  her  fathers  and  the  spirit  of  her  child 
ren.  The  national  character,  in  some  of  its  most 
important  elements,  must  be  formed,  elevated, 
and  strengthened  from  the  materials  which  history 
presents.  The  great  objection  which  has  been 
urged,  and  urged  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet  and 
at  the  mouth  of  the  cannon,  by  the  partisans  of 
arbitrary  power  in  Europe,  against  revolutionary 
and  popular  governments,  is,  that  they  want  a 
historical  basis,  which  alone,  they  say,  can  im 
part  stability  and  legality  to  public  institutions. 
But  certainly  the  historical  basis  is  of  much  greater 
moment  to  the  spirit,  than  to  the  institutions  of  a 
people  ;  and  for  the  reason,  that  the  spirit  itself  of 
a  nation  is  far  more  important  than  its  institutions 
at  any  moment.  Let  the  spirit  be  sound  and  true, 
and  it  will  sooner  or  later  find  or  make  a  remedy 
for  defective  institutions.  But  though  the  insti- 
2 


30 

tutions  should  surpass,  in  theoretic  beauty,  the 
fabled  perfection  of  Utopia  or  Atlantis,  without  a 
free  spirit,  the  people  will  be  slaves ;  they  will  be 
slaves  of  the  most  despicable  kind, — pretended 
freemen. 

And  how  is  the  spirit  of  a  people  to  be  formed 
and  animated  and  cheered,  but  out  of  the  store 
house  of  its  historic  recollections  ?  Are  we  to  be 
eternally  ringing  the  changes  upon  Marathon  and 
Thermopylae  ;  and  going  back  to  read  in  obscure 
texts  of  Greek  and  Latin  of  the  great  examplars 
of  patriotic  virtue  ?  I  thank  God,  that  we  can 
find  them  nearer  home,  in  our  own  country,  on 
our  own  soil  ; — that  strains  of  the  noblest  sen 
timent,  that  ever  swelled  in  the  breast  of  man,  are 
breathing  to  us  out  of  every  page  of  our  country's 
history,  in  the  native  eloquence  of  our  mother 
tongue  ; — that  the  colonial  and  the  provincial  coun 
cils  of  America,  exhibit  to  us  models  of  the  spirit 
and  character,  which  gave  Greece  and  Rome  their 
name  and  their  praise  among  the  nations.  Here 
we  ought  to  go  for  our  instruction  ; — the  lesson 
is  plain,  it  is  clear,  it  is  applicable.  When 
we  go  to  ancient  history,  we  are  bewildered 
with  the  difference  of  manners  and  institutions. 


11 

We  are  willing  to  pay  our  tribute  of  applause 
to  the  memory  of  Leonidas,  who  fell  nobly  for  his 
country,  in  the  face  of  the  foe.  But  when  we 
trace  him  to  his  home,  we  are  confounded  at  the 
reflection,  that  the  same  Spartan  heroism  to 
which  he  sacrificed  himself  at  Thermopylae,  would 
have  led  him  to  tear  his  only  child,  if  it  happened 
to  be  a  sickly  babe — the  very  object  for  which  all 
that  is  kind  and  good  in  man  rises  up  to  plead — 
from  the  bosom  of  its  mother,  and  carry  it  out  to 
be  eaten  by  the  wolves  of  Taygetus.  We  feel  a 
glow  of  admiration  at  the  heroism  displayed  at 
Marathon,  by  the  ten  thousand  champions  of  in 
vaded  Greece  ;  but  we  cannot  forget  that  the  tenth 
part  of  the  number  were  slaves,  unchained  from 
the  workshops  and  door-posts  of  their  masters,  to 
go  and  fight  the  battles  of  freedom.  I  do  not 
mean  that  these  examples  are  to  destroy  the  inter 
est  with  which  we  read  the  history  of  ancient 
times  ;  they  possibly  increase  that  interest,  by  the 
singular  contrast  they  exhibit.  But  they  do  warn 
us,  if  we  need  the  warning,  to  seek  our  great 
practical  lessons  of  patriotism  at  home ;  out  of 
the  exploits  and  sacrifices,  of  which  our  own  coun 
try  is  the  theatre  ;  out  of  the  characters  of  our 
own  fathers.  Them  we  know,  the  high-souled, 


12 

natural,  unaffected,  the  citizen  heroes.  We 
know  what  happy  firesides  they  left  for  the 
cheerless  camp.  We  know  with  what  pacific 
habits  they  dared  the  perils  of  the  field.  There  is 
no  mystery,  no  romance,  no  madness,  under  the 
name  of  chivalry,  about  them.  It  is  all  resolute, 
manly  resistance,  for  conscience'  and  liberty's  sake, 
not  merely  of  an  overwhelming  power,  but  of  all 
the  force  of  long-rooted  habits,  and  native  love  of 
order  and  peace. 

Above  all,  their  blood  calls  to  us  from  the  soil 
which  we  tread  ;  it  beats  in  our  veins  ;  it  cries  to 
us,  not  merely  in  the  thrilling  words  of  one  of  the 
first  victims  in  this  cause, — "  My  sons,  scorn  to  be 
slaves  ; " — but  it  cries  with  a  still  more  moving 
eloquence — "  My  sons,  forget  not  your  fathers." 
Fast,  oh,  too  fast,  with  all  our  efforts  to  pre 
vent  it,  their  precious  memories  are  dying  away. 
Notwithstanding  our  numerous  written  memorials, 
much  of  what  is  known  of  those  eventful  times 
dwells  but  in  the  recollection  of  a  few  revered 
survivors,  and  with  them  is  rapidly  perishing, 
unrecorded  and  irretrievable.  How  many  pru 
dent  counsels,  conceived  in  perplexed  times  ;  how 
many  heart-stirring  words,  uttered  when  liberty 
was  treason  ;  how  many  brave  and  heroic  deeds, 


13 

? 
performed  when   the   halter,  not   the  laurel,  was 

the  promised  meed  of  patriotic  daring, — are  already 
lost  and  forgotten  in  the  graves  of  their  authors. 
How  little  do  we, — although  we  have  been  permit 
ted  to  hold  converse  with  the  venerable  remnants 
of  that  day, — how  little  do  we  know  of  their  dark 
and  anxious  hours ;  of  their  secret  meditations ; 
of  the  hurried  and  perilous  events  of  the  moment 
ous  struggle.  And  while  they  are  dropping  round 
us  like  the  leaves  of  autumn,  while  scarce  a 
week  passes  that  does  not  call  away  some  member 
of  the  veteran  ranks,  already  so  sadly  thinned, 
shall  we  make  no  effort  to  hand  down  the  tradi 
tions  of  their  day  to  our  children  ;  to  pass  the 
torch  of  liberty,  which  we  received  in  all  the 
splendour  of  its  first  enkindling,  bright  and  flam 
ing  to  those  who  stand  next  us  in  the  line ;  so 
that  when  we  shall  come  to  be  gathered  to  the 
dust  where  our  fathers  are  laid,  we  may  say  to 
our  sons  and  our  grandsons,  "  If  we  did  not  amass^ 
we  have  not  squandered  your  inheritance  of  glory  ?  " 
Let  us  then  faithfully  go  back  to  those  all-im 
portant  days.  Let  us  commemorate  the  events, 
with  which  the  momentous  revolutionary  crisis 
was  brought  on  ;  let  us  gather  up  the  traditions 
which  still  exist ;  let  us  show  the  world,  that  if 


14 

we  are  not  called  to  follow  the  example  of  our 
fathers,  we  are  at  least  not  insensible  to  the  worth 
of  their  characters  ;  not  indifferent  to  the  sacrifices 
and  trials,  by  which  they  purchased  our  prosper- 
ity. 

Time  would  fail  us  to  recount  the  measures  by 
which  the  way  was  prepared  for  the  revolution  ; — 
the  stamp  act ;  its  repeal,  with  the  declaration  of 
the  right  to  tax  America ;  the  landing  of  troops 
in  Boston,  beneath  the  batteries  of  fourteen  vessels 
of  war,  lying  broadside  to  the  town,  with  springs 
on  their  cables,  their  guns  loaded,  and  matches 
smoking ;  the  repeated  insults,  and  finally  the 
massacre  of  the  fifth  of  March,  resulting  from  this 
military  occupation  ;  and  the  Boston  Port-Bill, 
by  which  the  final  catastrophe  was  hurried  on. 
Nor  can  we  dwell  upon  the  appointment  at  Salem, 
on  the  seventeenth  of  June  1774,  of  the  delegates 
to  the  continental  congress  ;  of  the  formation  at 
Salem,  in  the  following  October,  of  the  provincial 
congress  ;  of  the  decided  measures,  which  were 
taken  by  that  noble  assembly,  at  Concord  and  at 
Cambridge  ;  of  the  preparations  they  made  against 
the  worst,  by  organizing  the  militia,  providing 
stores,  and  appointing  commanders.  All  this  was 
done  by  the  close  of  the  year  1774. 


15 

At  length  the  memorable  year  of  1775  arrived. 
The  plunder  of  the  provincial  stores  at  Medford, 
and  the  attempt  to  seize  the  cannon  at  Salem,  had 
produced  a  highly  irritated  state  of  the  public 
mind.  The  friends  of  our  rights  in  England  made 
a  vigorous  effort,  in  the  month  of  March,  to  avert 
the  tremendous  crisis  that  impended.  On  the 
twenty-second  of  that  month,  Mr  Burke  spoke  the 
last  word  of  conciliation  and  peace.  He  spoke  it 
in  a  tone  and  with  a  power  befitting  the  occasion  and 
the  man  ; — he  spoke  it  to  the  northwest  wind. 
Eight  days  after,  at  that  season  of  the  year  when 
the  prudent  New  England  husbandman  repairs  the 
inclosures  of  his  field,  for  the  protection  of  the 
fruits  of  nature's  bounty  which  ere  long  will  cov 
er  them,  General  Gage  sent  out  a  party  of  eleven 
hundred  men  to  overthrow  the  stone  walls  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Boston,  by  way  of  opening 
and  levelling  the  arena  for  the  bloody  contest  he 
designed  to  bring  on.  With  the  same  view,  in 
the  months  of  February  and  March,  his  officers 
were  sent  in  disguise  to  traverse  the  country,  to 
make  military  surveys  and  sketches  of  its  roads 
and  passes,  to  obtain  accounts  of  the  stores  at 
Concord  and  Worcester,  and  to  communicate  with 
the  small  number  of  disaffected  Americans.  These 


16 

disguised  officers  were  here  at  Concord,  on  the 
twentieth  of  March  ;  and  received  treacherous  or 
unsuspecting  information  of  the  places,  where  the 
provincial  stores  were  concealed.  I  mention  this 
only  to  show,  that  our  fathers,  in  their  arduous 
contest,  had  every  thing  to  contend  with  ;  secret  as 
well  as  open  foes  ;  treachery  in  the  cabinet,  as 
well  as  power  in  the  field.  But  I  need  not  add, 
that  they  possessed  not  only  the  courage  and  the 
resolution,  but  the  vigilance  and  care,  demanded  for 
the  crisis.  In  November  1774,  a  society  had 
been  formed  in  Boston,  principally  of  the  mechan 
ics  of  that  town, — a  class  of  men  to  whom  the 
revolutionary  cause  was  as  deeply  indebted,  as  to 
any  other  in  America, — for  the  express  purpose  of 
closely  watching  the  movements  of  the  open  and 
secret  foes  of  the  country.  In  the  long  and  dreary 
nights  of  a  New  England  winter,  they  patrolled 
the  streets  ;  and  not  a  movement,  which  concerned 
the  cause,  escaped  their  vigilance.  Not  a  measure 
of  the  royal  governor,  but  was  in  their  possession, 
in  a  few  hours  after  it  was  communicated  to  his 
confidential  officers.  Nor  was  it  manly  patriotism 
alone,  whose  spirit  was  thus  aroused  in  the  cause. 
The  daughters  of  America  were  inspired  with  the 
same  noble  temper,  that  animated  their  fathers, 


17 

their  husbands,  and  their  brethren.  The  historian 
tells  us,  that  the  first  intimation  communicated  to  the 
patriots  of  the  impending  commencement  of  hos 
tilities,  came  from  a  daughter  of  liberty,  unequally 
yoked  with  an  enemy  of  her  country's  rights. 

With  all  these  warnings,  and  all  the  vigilance 
with  which  the  royal  troops  were  watched,  none 
supposed  the  fatal  moment  was  hurrying  so  rapid 
ly  on.  On  Saturday,  April  fifteenth,  the  Provin 
cial  Congress  adjourned  their  session  in  this  place, 
to  meet  on  the  tenth  of  May.  On  the  very  same 
day,  Saturday  the  fifteenth  of  April,  the  companies 
of  grenadiers  and  light  infantry  in  Boston,  the 
flower  not  merely  of  the  royal  garrison,  but  of  the 
British  army,  were  taken  off  their  regular  duty, 
under  the  pretence  of  learning  a  new  military 
exercise.  At  the  midnight  following,  the  boats  of 
the  transport  ships,  which  had  been  previously 
repaired,  were  launched,  and  moored  for  safety 
under  the  sterns  of  the  vessels  of  war.  Not  one 
of  these  movements, — least  of  all,  that  which  took 
place  beneath  the  shades  of  midnight, — was  un 
observed  by  the  vigilant  sons  of  liberty.  The 
next  morning,  Colonel  Paul  Revere,  a  very  active 
member  of  the  patriotic  society  just  mentioned, 
was  despatched  by  Dr  Joseph  Warren  to  John 
3 


18 

Hancock  and  Samuel  Adams,  then  at  Lexington, 
whose  seizure  was  threatened  by  the  royal  gover 
nor.  So  early  did  these  distinguished  patriots  re 
ceive  the  intelligence,  that  preparations  for  an 
important  movement  were  on  foot.  Justly  con 
sidering,  however,  that  some  object  besides  the 
seizure  of  two  individuals  was  probably  designed, 
in  the  movement  of  so  large  a  force,  they  counsel 
led  the  Committee  of  Safety  to  order  the  distribu 
tion  into  the  neighbouring  towns,  of  the  stores 
collected  at  Concord.  Colonel  Revere,  on  his 
return  from  this  excursion  on  the  sixteenth 
of  April,  in  order  to  guard  against  any  ac* 
cident,  which  might  make  it  impossible  at  the 
last  moment  to  give  information  from  Boston  of 
the  departure  of  the  troops,  concerted  with  his 
friends  in  Charlestovvn,  that  whenever  the  British 
forces  should  embark  in  their  boats  to  cross  into 
the  country,  two  lanterns  should  be  shown  in 
North  Church  steeple,  and  one,  should  they  march 
out  by  Roxbury. 

Thus  was  the  meditated  blow  prepared  for  be 
fore  it  was  struck  ;  and  we  almost  smile  at  the 
tardy  prudence  of  the  British  commander,  who, 
on  Tuesday  the  eighteenth  of  April,  despatched  ten 
sergeants,  who  were  to  diue  at  Cambridge,  and  at 


19 

nightfall  scatter  themselves  on  the  roads  from 
Boston  to  Concord,  to  prevent  notice  of  the  pro 
jected  expedition  from  reaching  the  country. 

At    length    the    momentous    hour   arrives,    as 
big  with  consequences  to  man,  as   any  that  ever 
struck  in  his  history.     The  darkness  of  night  is 
still  to  shroud  the  rash  and    fatal    measures,  with 
which   the    liberty   of  America   is    hastened    on.  f 
The    highest  officers   in  the   British  army  are   as 
yet  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  the  meditated  blow. 
At  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  the  eighteenth, 
Lord  Percy  is  sent  for  by  the  governor  to  receive 
the  information  of  the  design.     On  his  way  back 
to   his    lodgings,    he  finds  the   very    movements, 
which  had  been  just  communicated  to  him  in  con 
fidence   by  the    commander   in  chief,  a  subject  of 
conversation  in  a  group  of  patriotic  citizens  in  the 
street.     He  hastens  back   to   General  Gage  and 
tells  him  he  is  betrayed  ;  and  orders  are  instantly 
given  to  permit  no  American  to   leave    the  town. 
But  the  order  is  five  minutes  too  late.     Dr  War 
ren,  the   President  of  the  Committee   of  Safety, 
though  he  had  returned  at  nightfall  from  the  meet 
ing  at  West  Cambridge,  was  already  in  possession 
of  the  whole   design  ;    and  instantly   despatched 
two  messengers  to  Lexington,  Mr  William  Dawes, 


20 

who  went  out  by  Roxbury,  and  Colonel  Paul 
Revere,  who  crossed  to  Charlestown.  The  Col 
onel  received  this  summons,  at  ten  o'clock  on 
Tuesday  night  ;  the  lanterns  were  immediately 
lighted  up  in  North  Church  steeple ;  and  in  this 
way,  before  a  man  of  the  soldiery  was  embarked 
in  the  boats,  the  news  of  their  coming  was  trav 
elling  with  the  rapidity  of  light,  through  the 
country.* 

Having  accomplished  this  precautionary  meas 
ure,  Colonel  Revere  repaired  to  the  north  part  of 
the  town,  where  he  constantly  kept  a  boat  in  read 
iness,  in  which  he  was  now  rowed  by  two  friends 
across  the  river,  a  little  to  the  eastward  of  the 
spot  where  the  Somerset  man-of-war  was  moored, 
between  Boston  and  Charlesto\vn.  It  was  then 
young  flood,  the  ship  was  swinging  round  upon 
the  tide,  and  the  moon  was  just  rising  upon 
this  midnight  scene  of  solemn  anticipation. 
Colonel  Revere  was  safely  landed  in  Charles- 
town,  where  his  signals  had  already  been  ob 
served.  He  procured  a  horse  from  Deacon  Lar- 
kin  for  the  further  pursuit  of  his  errand.  That 
he  would  not  be  permitted  to  accomplish  it,  with 
out  risk  of  interruption,  was  evident  from  the  in- 
*  See  note  A. 


21 

formation  which  he  received  from  Mr  Richard 
Devens,  a  member  of  the  Committee  of  Safety, 
that  on  his  way  from  West  Cambridge,  where  the 
committee  sat,  he  had  encountered  several  British 
officers,  well  armed  and  mounted,  going  up  the  road. 
At  eleven  o'clock,  Colonel  Revere  started  upon 
his  eventful  errand.  After  passing  Charlestown 
neck,  he  saw  two  men  on  horseback  under  a  tree. 
On  approaching  them  he  perceived  them  by  the 
light  of  the  moon  to  be  British  officers.  One  of 
them  immediately  tried  to  intercept,  and  the  other 
to  seize  him.  The  Colonel  instantly  turned  back 
toward  Charlestown,  and  then  struck  into  the 
Medford  road.  The  officer  in  pursuit  of  him, 
endeavouring  to  cut  him  off,  plunged  into  a  clay- 
pond,  in  the  corner  between  the  two  roads,  and 
the  Colonel  escaped.  He  accordingly  pursued 
his  way  to  Medford,  awoke  the  captain  of  the 
minute  men  there,  and  giving  the  alarm  at  every 
house  on  the  road,  passed  on  through  West  Cam 
bridge  to  Lexington.  There  he  delivered  his 
message  to  Messrs  Hancock  and  Adams,*  and 
there  also  he  was  shortly  after  joined  by  Mr 
William  Dawes,  the  messenger  who  had  gone  out 
by  Roxbury. 

*  See  note  B. 


22 

After  staying  a  short  time  at  Lexington,  Messrs 
Revere  and  Dawes,  at  about  one  o'clock  of  the 
morning  of  the  nineteenth  of  April,  started  for 
Concord,  to  communicate  the  intelligence  there. 
They  were  soon  overtaken  on  the  way  by  Dr 
Samuel  Prescott  of  Concord,  who  joined  them  in 
giving  the  alarm  at  every  house  on  the  road. 
About  half  way  from  Lexington  to  Concord,  while 
Dawes  and  Prescott  were  alarming  a  house  on 
the  road,  Revere,  being  about  one  hundred  rods  in 
advance,  saw  two  officers  in  the  road,  of  the  same 
appearance  as  those  he  had  escaped  in  Charles- 
town.  He  called  to  his  companions  to  assist  him 
in  forcing  his  way  through  them,  but  was  himself 
instantly  surrounded  by  four  officers.  These  officers 
had  previously  thrown  down  the  wall  into  an 
adjoining  field,  and  the  Americans,  prevented  from 
forcing  their  way  onward,  passed  into  the  field. 
Dr  Prescott,  although  the  reins  of  his  horse  had 
been  cut  in  the  struggle  with  the  officers,  succeed 
ed,  by  leaping  a  stone  wall,  in  making  his  escape 
from  the  field  and  reaching  Concord.  Revere 
aimed  at  a  wood,  but  was  there  encountered  by 
six  more  officers,  and  was  with  his  companion 
made  prisoner.  The  British  officers,  who  had 
already  seized  three  other  Americans,  having 


25 

learned  from  their  prisoners  that  the  whole  coun 
try  was  alarmed,  thought  it  best  for  their  own 
safety  to  hasten  back,  taking  their  prisoners  with 
them.  Near  Lexington  meetinghouse,  on  their 
return,  the  British  officers  heard  the  militia,  who 
were  on  parade,  firing  a  volley  of  guns.  Terrified 
at  this,  they  compelled  Revere  to  give  up  his  horse, 
and  then  pushing  forward  at  full  gallop,  escaped 
down  the  road. 

The  morning  was  now  advanced  to  about 
four  o'clock,  nor  was  it  then  known  at  Lexing 
ton  that  the  British  were  so  near  at  hand.  Col 
onel  Revere  again  sought  Messrs  Hancock  and 
Adams  at  the  house  of  the  Reverend  Mr  Clark, 
and  it  was  thought  expedient  by  their  friends, 
who  had  kept  watch  there  during  the  night,  that 
these  eminent  patriots  should  remove  toward  Wo- 
burn.  Having  attended  them  to  a  house  on  the 
Woburn  road,  where  they  proposed  to  stop, 
Colonel  Revere  returned  to  Lexington  to  watch 
the  progress  of  events.  He  soon  met  a  person  at 
full  gallop,  who  informed  him  that  the  British 
troops  were  coming  up  the  road.  Hastening  now 
to  the  public  house,  to  secure  some  papers  of 
Messrs  Hancock  and  Adams,  Colonel  Revere  saw 
the  British  troops  pressing  forward  in  full  array. 


It  was  now  seven  hours,  since  these  troops 
were  put  in  motion.  They  were  mustered  at  ten 
o'clock  of  the  night  preceding,  on  the  Boston 
Common,  and  embarked,  to  the  number  of  eight 
hundred  grenadiers  and  light  infantry,  in  the  boats 
of  the  British  squadron.  They  landed  at  Phipps' 
Farm,  a  little  to  the  south  of  Lechmere's  Point, 
and  on  disembarking,  a  day's  provision  was  dealt 
out  to  them.  Pursuing  the  path  across  the 
marshes,  they  emerged  into  the  old  Charlestown 
and  West  Cambridge  road. 

And  here  let  us  pause  a  moment  in  the  narra 
tion,  to  ask,  who  are  the  men  and  what  is  the 
cause  ?  Is  it  an  army  of  Frenchmen  and  Cana 
dians,  who  in  earlier  days  had  often  run  the  line 
between  them  and  us,  with  havock  and  fire,  and 
who  have  now  come  to  pay  back  the  debt  of 
defeat  and  subjugation  ?  Or  is  it  their  ancient 
ally  of  the  woods,  the  stealthy  savage, — borne  in 
his  light  canoe,  with  muffled  oars,  over  the  mid 
night  waters, — creeping  like  the  felon  wolf 
through  our  villages,  that  he  may  start  up  at  dawn, 
to  wage  a  war  of  surprise,  of  plunder,  and  of  hor 
ror  against  the  slumbering  cradle  and  the  defence 
less  fireside  ?  O  no  !  It  is  the  disciplined  armies 
of  a  brave,  a  Christian,  a  kindred  people  ;  led  by 


25 

gallant  officers,  the  choice  sons  of  England  ;  and 
they  are  going  to  seize,  and  secure  for  the  halter, 
men  whose  crime  is,  that  they  have  dared  to  utter 
in  the  English  tongue,  on  this  side  of  the  ocean, 
the  principles  which  gave,  and  give  England  her 
standing  among  the  nations  ;  they  are  going  to 
plunge  their  swords  in  the  breasts  of  men,  who 
fifteen  years  before,  on  the  plains  of  Abraham, 
stood,  and  fought,  and  conquered  by  their  side.  But 
they  go  not  unobserved ;  the  tidings  of  their 
approach  are  travelling  before  them  ;  the'faithlul 
messengers  have  aroused  the  citizens  from  their 
slumbers  ;  alarm  guns  are  answering  to  each  other, 
and  spreading  the  news  from  village  to  village  ; 
the  tocsin  is  heard,  at  this  unnatural  hour,  from 
steeples,  that  never  before  rung  with  any  other 
summons  than  that  of  the  gospel  of  peace  ;  the 
sacred  tranquillity  of  the  hour  is  startled  with  all 
the  mingled  sounds  of  preparation, — of  gathering 
bands,  and  resolute  though  unorganized  resistance. 
The  Committee  of  Safety,  as  has  been  observed, 
had  set,  the  preceding  day,  at  West  Cambridge ; 
and  three  of  its  respected  members,  Gerry,  Lee,  and 
Orne,  had  retired  to  sleep,  in  the  public  house, 
where  the  session  of  the  committee  was  held.  So 
difficult  was  it,  notwithstanding  all  that  had  passed, 
4 


26 

to  realize  that  a  state  of  things  could  exist,  be 
tween  England  and  America,  in  which  American 
citizens  should  be  liable  to  be  torn  from  their  beds 
by  an  armed  force  at  midnight,  that  the  members  of 
the  Committee  of  Safety,  though  forewarned  of  the 
approach  of  the  British  troops,  did  not  even  think 
it  necessary  to  retire  from  their  lodgings.  On  the 
contrary,  they  rose  from  their  beds  and  went  to 
their  windows  to  gaze  on  the  unwonted  sight,  the 
midnight  march  of  armies  through  the  peaceful 
hamlets  of  New  England.  Half  the  column  had 
already  passed,  when  a  flank  guard  was  promptly 
detached  to  search  the  public  house,  no  doubt  in  the 
design  of  arresting  the  members  of  the  Committee 

o  o 

of  Safety,  who  might  be  there.  It  was  only  at 
this  last  critical  moment,  that  Mr  Gerry  and  his 
friends  bethought  themselves  of  flight,  and  without 
time  even  to  clothe  themselves,  escaped  naked  into 
the  fields. 

By  this  time  Colonel  Smith,  who  commanded 
the  expedition,  appears  to  have  been  alarmed  at 
the  indications  of  a  general  rising  throughout  the 
country.  The  light  infantry  companies  were  now 
detached  and  placed  under  the  command  of  Major 
Pitcairne,  for  the  purpose  of  hastening  forward,  to 
secure  the  bridges  at  Concord ;  and  thus  cut  off 


27 

the  communication  between  this  place  and  the 
towns  north  and  west  of  it.  Before  these  com 
panies  could  reach  Lexington,  the  officers  already 
mentioned,  who  had  arrested  Colonel  Revere, 
joined  their  advancing  countrymen,  and  reported 
that  five  hundred  men  wrere  drawn  up  in  Lexing 
ton,  to  resist  the  king's*  troops.  On  receiving  this 
exaggerated  account,  the  British  light  infantry  was 
halted,  to  give  time  for  the  grenadiers  to  come 
up,  that  the  whole  together  might  move  forward 
to  the  work  of  death. 

The  company  assembled  on  Lexington  Green, 
which  the  British  officers,  in  their  report,  had 
swelled  to  five  hundred,  consisted  of  sixty  or  seven 
ty  of  the  militia  of  the  place.  Information  had 
been  received  about  nightfall,  both  by  private 
means  and  by  communications  from  the  Commit 
tee  of  Safety,  that  a  strong  party  of  officers  had 
been  seen  on  the  road,  directing  their  course  to 
ward  Lexington.  In  consequence  of  this  intelli 
gence,  a  body  of  about  thirty  of  the  militia,  well 
armed,  assembled  early  in  the  evening ;  a  guard  of 
eight  men  under  Colonel  William  Munroe,  then  a 
sergeant  in  the  company,  was  stationed  at  Mr 
Clark's  ;  and  three  men  were  sent  off  to  give  the 
alarm  at  Concord.  These  three  messengers  were 


28 

however  stopped  on  their  way,  as  has  been  mention* 
ed,  by  the  British  officers,  who  had  already  passed 
onward.  One  of  their  number,  Elijah  Sanderson, 
has  lately  died  at  Salem  at  an  advanced  age.  A 
little  after  midnight,  as  has  been  observed,  Messrs 
Revere  and  Dawes  arrived  with  the  certain  inform 
ation,  that  a  very  large  body  of  the  royal  troops 
was  in  motion.  The  alarm  was  now  generally 
given  to  the  inhabitants  of  Lexington,  messengers 
were  sent  down  the  road  to  ascertain  the  move 
ments  of  the  troops,  and  the  militia  company  under 
Captain  John  Parker  appeared  on  the  green  to 
the  number  of  one  hundred  and  thirty.  The  roll 
was  duly  called  at  this  perilous  midnight  muster, 
and  some  answered  to  their  names  for  the  last  time 
on  earth.  The  company  was  now  ordered  to  load 
with  powder  and  ball,  and  awaited  in  anxious  ex 
pectation  the  return  of  those  who  had  been  sent 
to  reconnoitre  the  enemy.  One  of  them,  in  con 
sequence  of  some  misinformation,  returned  and  re 
ported  that  there  was  no  appearance  of  troops  on 
the  road  from  Boston.  Under  this  harassing 
uncertainty  and  contradiction,  the  militia  were 
dismissed,  to  await  the  return  of  the  other  expresses 
and  with  orders  to  be  in  readiness  at  the  beat  of 
the  drum.  One  of  these  messengers  was  made  pris- 


29 

oner  by  the  British,  whose  march  was  so  cautious, 
that  they  remained  undiscovered  till  within  a  mile 
and  a  half  of  Lexington  meetinghouse,  and  time  was 
scarce  left  for  the  last  messenger  to  return  with 
the  tidings  of  their  approach. 

The  new  alarm  was  now  given  ;  the  bell  rings, 
alarm  guns  are  fired,  the  drum  beats  to  arms. 
Some  of  the  militia  had  gone  home,  when  dismiss 
ed  ;  but  the  greater  part  were  in  the  neighbouring 
houses,  and  instantly  obeyed  the  summons.  Sixty  or 
seventy  appeared  on  the  green  and  were  drawn  up 
in  double  ranks.  At  this  moment  the  British  col 
umn  of  eight  hundred  gleaming  bayonets  appears, 
headed  by  their  mounted  commanders,  their  banners 
flying  and  drums  beating  a  charge.  To  engage 
them  with  a  handful  of  militia  of  course  was  mad 
ness, — to  fly  at  the  sight  of  them,  they  disdained. 
The  British  troops  rush  furiously  on  ;  their  com 
manders,  with  mingled  threats  and  execrations, 
bid  the  Americans  lay  down  their  arms  and  disperse, 
and  their  own  troops  to  fire.  A  moment's  delay, 
as  of  compunction,  follows.  The  order  with  vehe 
ment  imprecations  is  repeated,  and  they  fire.  No 
one  falls,  and  the  band  of  self-devoted  heroes,  most 
of  whom  had  never  seen  such  a  body  of  troops 
before,  stand  firm  in  the  front  of  an  army,  outnum- 


30 

bering  them  ten  to  one.  Another  volley  succeeds  ; 
the  killed  and  wounded  drop,  and  it  was  not  till 
they  had  returned  the  fire  of  the  overwhelming 
force,  that  the  militia  were  driven  from  the  field. 
A  scattered  fire  now  succeeded  on  both  sides  while 
the  Americans  remained  in  sight ;  and  the  British 
troops  were  then  drawn  up  on  the  green  to  fire  a 
volley  and  give  a  shout  in  honor  of  the  victory.* 

While  these  incidents  were  taking  place,  and 
every  moment  then  came  charged  with  events  which 
were  to  give  a  character  to  centuries,  Hancock 
and  Adams,  though  removed  by  their  friends  from 
the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  force  sent  to  appre 
hend  them,  were  apprized,  too  faithfully,  that  the 
work  of  death  wras  begun.  The  heavy  and  quick 
repeated  vollies  told  them  a  tale,  that  needed  no 
exposition, — which  proclaimed  that  Great  Britain 
had  renounced  that  strong  invisible  tie  which  bound 
the  descendants  of  England  to  the  land  of  their 
fathers,  and  had  appealed  to  the  right  of  the  strong 
est.  The  inevitable  train  of  consequences  burst 
in  prophetic  fulness  upon  their  minds  ;  and  the 
patriot  Adams,  forgetting  the  scenes  of  tribulation 
through  which  America  must  pass  to  realize  thepros- 

*  See  note  C. 


31      - 

pect,  and  heedless  that  the  ministers  of  vengeance, 
in  overwhelming  strength,  were  in  close  pursuit  of 
his  own  life,  uttered  that  memorable  exclamation, 
than  which  nothing  more  generous,  nothing  more 
sublime  can  be  found  in  the  records  of  Grecian  or 
Roman  heroism, — "  O,  what  a  glorious  morning  is 
this ! » 

Elated  with  its  success,  the  British  army  took 
up  its  march  toward  Concord.  The  intelligence 
of  the  projected  expedition  had  been  communicated 
to  this  town  by  Dr  Samuel  Prescott,  in  the  man 
ner  already  described ;  and  from  Concord  had 
travelled  onward  in  every  direction.  The  interval 
was  employed  in  removing  a  portion  of  the  public 
stores  to  the  neighbouring  towns,  while  the  aged 
and  infirm,  the  women  and  children,  sought  refuge 
in  the  surrounding  woods.  About  seven  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  the  glittering  arms  of  the  British 
column  were  seen  advancing  on  the  Lincoln  road. 
A  body  of  militia  from  one  hundred  and  fifty  to 
two  hundred  men,  who  had  taken  post  for  obser 
vation  on  the  heights  above  the  entrance  to  the 
town,  retire  at  the  approach  of  the  army  of  the 
enemy,  first  to  the  hill  a  iittle  farther  north, 
and  then  beyond  the  bridge.  The  British  troops 
press  forward  into  the  town,  and  are  drawn 


32 

up  in  front  of  the  courthouse.  Parties  are  then 
ordered  out  to  the  various  spots  where  the  public 
stores  and  arms  were  supposed  to  be  deposited. 
Much  had  been  removed  to  places  of  safety,  and 
something  was  saved  by  the  prompt  and  innocent 
artifices  of  individuals.  The  destruction  of  prop 
erty  and  of  arms  was  hasty  and  incomplete,  and 
considered  as  the  object  of  an  enterprise  of  such 
fatal  consequences,  it  stands  in  shocking  contrast 
with  the  waste  of  blood  by  which  it  wras  effected. 

I  am  relating  events,  which,  though  they  can 
never  be  repeated  more  frequently  than  they  de 
serve,  are  yet  familiar  to  all  who  hear  me.  I  need 
not  therefore  attempt,  nor  would  it  be  practicable 
did  I  attempt  it,  to  recall  the  numerous  interesting 
occurrences  of  that  ever  memorable  day.  The 
reasonable  limits  of  a  public  discourse  must  con 
fine  us  to  a  selection  of  the  more  prominent  inci 
dents. 

It  was  the  first  care  of  the  British  commander 
to  cut  off  the  approach  of  the  Americans  from  the 
neighbouring  towns,  by  destroying  or  occupying  the 
bridges.  A  party  was  immediately  sent  to  the 
south  bridge  and  tore  it  up.  A  force  of  six  com 
panies,  under  Captains  Parsons  and  Lowrie,  was 
sent  to  the  north  bridge.  Three  companies  under 


33 

Captain  Lowrie  were  left  to  guard  it,  and  three 
under  Captain  Parsons  proceeded  to  Colonel  Bar 
rett's  house,  in  search  of  provincial  stores.  While 
they  were  engaged  on  that  errand,  the  militia  of 
Concord,  joined  by  their  brave  brethren  from  the 
neighbouring  towns,  gathered  on  the  hill  opposite  the 
north  bridge,  under  the  command  of  Colonel  Rob 
inson  and  Major  Buttrick.  The  British  companies 
at  the  bridge  were  now  apparently  bewildered 
with  the  perils  of  their  situation,  and  began  to 
tear  up  the  planks  of  the  bridge  ;  not  remembering 
that  this  would  expose  their  own  party,  then  at 
Colonel  Barrett's,  to  certain  and  entire  destruction. 
The  Americans,  on  the  other  hand,  resolved  to 
keep  open  the  communication  with  the  town,  and 
perceiving  the  attempt  which  was  made  to  destroy 
the  bridge,  were  immediately  put  in  motion,  with 
orders  not  to  give  the  first  fire.  They  draw  near  to 
the  bridge,  the  Acton  company  in  front,  led  on  by 
the  gallant  Davis.  Three  alarm  guns  were  fired 
into  the  water,  by  the  British,  without  arresting 
the  march  of  our  citizens.  The  signal  for  a  gene 
ral  discharge  is  then  made  ; — a  British  soldier  steps 
from  the  ranks  and  fires  at  Major  Buttrick.  The 
ball  passed  between  his  arm  and  his  side,  and 
slightly  wounded  Mr  Luther  Blanchard,  who  stood 
5 


34 

near  him.  A  volley  instantly  followed,  and  Cap 
tain  Davis  was  shot  through  the  heart,  gallantly 
marching  at  the  head  of  the  Acton  militia  against 
the  choice  troops  of  the  British  line.  A  private  of 
his  company,  Mr  Hosmer  of  Acton,  also  fell  at 
his  side.  A  general  action  now  ensued,  which 
terminated  in  the  retreat  of  the  British  party,  after 
the  loss  of  several  killed  and  wounded,  toward  the 
centre  of  the  town,  followed  by  the  brave  band 
who  had  driven  them  from  their  post.  The  ad 
vance  party  of  British  at  Colonel  Barrett's  was 
thus  left  to  its  fate  ;  and  nothing  would  have  been 
more  easy  than  to  effect  its  entire  destruction. 
But  the  idea  of  a  declared  war  had  yet  scarcely 
forced  itself,  with  all  its  consequences,  into  the 
minds  of  our  countrymen ;  and  these  advanced 
companies  were  allowed  to  return  unmolested  to 
the  main  band. 

It  was  now  twelve  hours  since  the  first  alarm 
had  been  given,  the  evening  before,  of  the  medi 
tated  expedition.  The  swift  watches  of  that 
eventful  night  had  scattered  the  tidings  far  and 
wide  ;  and  widely  as  they  spread,  the  people  rose 
in  their  strength.  The  genius  of  America,  on  this 
the  morning  of  her  emancipation,  had  sounded  her 
horn  over  the  plains  and  upon  the  mountains ;  and  the 


35 

indignant  yeomanry  of  the  land,  armed  with  the 
weapons  which  had  done  service  in  their  fathers' 
hands,  poured  to  the  spot  where  this  new  and 
strange  tragedy  was  acting.  The  old  New  Eng 
land  drums,  that  had  beat  at  Louisburgh,  at  Quebec, 
at  Martinique,  at  the  Havana,  were  now  sounding 
on  all  the  roads  to  Concord.  There  were  officers 
in  the  British  line,  that  knew  the  sound  ; — they 
had  heard  it,  in  the  deadly  breach,  beneath  the 
black,  deep-throated  engines  of  the  French  and 
Spanish  castles.  With  the  British  it  was  a  ques 
tion  no  longer  of  protracted  hostility,  nor  even  of 
halting  long  enough  to  rest  their  exhausted  troops, 
after  a  weary  night's  march,  and  all  the  labor, 
confusion,  and  distress  of  the  day's  efforts.  Their 
dead  were  hastily  buried  in  the  public  square ; 
their  wounded  placed  in  the  vehicles  which  the 
town  afforded  ;  and  a  flight  commenced,  to  which 
the  annals  of  British  warfare  will  hardly  afford  a 
parallel.  On  all  the  neighbouring  hills  were  mul 
titudes  from  the  surrounding  country,  of  the  unarm 
ed  and  infirm,  of  women  and  of  children,  who  had 
fled  from  the  terrors  and  the  perils  of  the  plunder 
and  conflagration  of  their  homes  ;  or  were  collect 
ed,  with  fearful  curiosity,  to  mark  the  progress  of 
this  storm  of  war.  The  panic  fears  of  a  calamitous 


56 

flight,  on  the  part  of  the  British,  transformed  this 
inoffensive,  timid  throng  into  a  threatening  ar 
ray  of  armed  men  ;  and  there  was  too  much 
reason  for  the  misconception.  Every  height  of 
ground,  within  reach  of  the  line  of  march,  was 
covered  with  the  indignant  avengers  of  their 
slaughtered  brethren.  The  British  light  companies 
were  sent  out  to  great  distances  as  flanking  par 
ties  ;  but  who  was  to  flank  the  flankers  ?  Every 
patch  of  trees,  every  rock,  every  stream  of  water, 
every  building,  every  stone  wall,  was  lined  (I  use 
the  words  of  a  British  officer  in  the  battle),  was 
lined  with  an  unintermitted  fire.  Every  cross 
road  opened  a  new  avenue  to  the  assailants. 
Through  one  of  these  the  gallant  Brooks  lead  up 
the  minute  men  of  Reading.  At  another  defile,  they 
were  encountered  by  the  Lexington  militia,  under 
Captain  Parker,  who,  undismayed  at  the  loss  of 
more  than  a  tenth  of  their  number  in  killed  and 
wrounded  in  the  morning,  had  returned  to  the  con 
flict.  At  first  the  contest  was  kept  up  by  the 
British,  with  all  the  skill  and  valor  of  veteran 
troops.  To  a  military  eye  it  was  not  an  unequal 
contest.  The  commander  was  not,  or  ought  not 
to  have  been,  taken  by  surprise.  Eight  hundred 
picked  men,  grenadiers  and  light  infantry,  from 


37 

the  English  army,  were  no  doubt  considered  by 
General  Gage  a  very  ample  detachment  to  march 
eighteen  or  twenty  miles  through  an  open  country  ; 
and  a  very  fair  match  for  all  the  resistance  which 
could  be  made  by  unprepared  husbandmen,  without 
concert,  discipline,  or  leaders.  With  about  ten 
times  their  number,  the  Grecian  commander  had 
forced  a  inarch  out  of  the  wrecks  of  a  field  of 
battle  and  defeat,  through  the  barbarous  nations 
of  Asia,  for  thirteen  long  months,  from  the  plains 
of  Babylon  to  the  Black  sea,  through  forests, 
defiles,  and  deserts,  which  the  foot  of  civilized 
man  had  never  trod.  It  was  the  American  cause, — 
its  holy  foundation  in  truth  and  right,  its  strength 
and  life  in  the  hearts  of  the  people,  that  converted 
what  would  naturally  have  been  the  undisturbed 
march  of  a  strong,  well  provided  army,  into  a  rab 
ble  rout  of  terror  and  death.  It  was  this,  which 
sowed  the  fields  of  our  pacific  villages  with  drag 
on's  teeth  ;  which  nerved  the  arm  of  age  ;  called 
the  ministers  and  servants  of  the  church  into  the 
hot  fire ;  and  even  filled  with  strange  passion  and 
manly  strength  the  heart  and  the  arm  of  the  strip 
ling.  A  British  historian,  to  paint  the  terrific 
aspect  of  things  that  presented  itself  to  his  coun 
trymen,  declares  that  the  rebels  swarmed  upon  the 


38 

hills,  as  if  they  dropped  from  the  clouds.  Before 
the  flying  troops  had  reached  Lexington,  their 
rout  was  entire.  Some  of  the  officers  had  been 
made  prisoners,  some  had  been  killed,  and  several 
wounded,  and  among  them  the  commander  in  chief, 
Colonel  Smith.  The  ordinary  means  of  preserv 
ing  discipline  failed  ;  the  wounded,  in  chaises  and 
wagons,  pressed  to  the  front  and  obstructed  the 
road  ;  wherever  the  flanking  parties,  from  the 
nature  of  the  ground,  were  forced  to  come  in,  the 
line  of  march  was  crowded  and  broken  ;  the  ammu 
nition  began  to  fail ;  and  at  length  the  entire  body 
was  on  a  full  run.  "  We  attempted,"  says  a 
British  officer  already  quoted,  "  to  stop  the  men 
and  form  them  two  deep,  but  to  no  purpose  ;  the 
confusion  rather  increased  than  lessened."  An 
English  historian  says,  the  British  soldiers  were 
driven  before  the  Americans  like  sheep  ;  till,  by  a 
last  desperate  effort,  the  officers  succeeded  in  forc 
ing  their  way  to  the  front,  "  when  they  presented 
their  swords  and  bayonets  against  the  breasts  of 
their  own  men,  and  told  them  if  they  advanced  they 
should  die."  Upon  this  they  began  to  form,  under 
what  the  same  British  officer  pronounces  "  a  very 
heavy  fire,"  which  must  soon  have  led  to  the  de 
struction  or  capture  of  the  whole  corps.  At  this 


39 

critical  moment,  it  pleased  Providence  that  a  rein 
forcement  should  arrive.  Colonel  Smith  had  sent 
back  a  messenger  from  Lexington  to  apprize  Gen 
eral  Gage  of  the  check  he  had  there  received,  and 
of  the  alarm  which  was  running  through  the  coun 
try.  Three  regiments  of  infantry  and  two  divis 
ions  of  marines  with  two  fieldpieces,  under  the 
command  of  Brigadier  General  Lord  Percy,  were 
accordingly  detached.  They  marched  out  of 
Boston,  through  Roxbury  and  Cambridge,*  and 
came  up  with  the  flying  party,  in  the  hour  of  their 
extreme  peril.  While  their  fieldpieces  kept  the 
Americans  at  bay,  the  reinforcement  drew  up  in 
a  hollow  square,  into  which,  says  the  British  histori 
an,  they  received  the  exhausted  fugitives,  "  who  lay 
down  on  the  ground,  with  their  tongues  hanging 
from  their  mouths,  like  dogs  after  a  chase." 

A  half  an  hour  was  given  to  rest;  the  march 
was  then  resumed  ;  and  under  cover  of  the  field- 
pieces,  every  house  in  Lexington,  and  on  the  road 
downwards,  was  plundered  and  set  on  fire.  Though 
the  flames  in  most  cases  were  speedily  extinguished, 
several  houses  were  destroyed.  Notwithstanding 
the  attention  of  a  great  part  of  the  Americans  was 
thus  drawn  off;  and  although  the  British  force 
*  See  note  D. 


40 

wus  now  more  than  doubled,  their  retreat  still 
wore  the  aspect  of  a  flight.  The  Americans  filled 
the  heights  that  overhung  the  road,  and  at  every 
defile,  the  struggle  was  sharp  and  bloody.  At 
West  Cambridge,  the  gallant  Warren,  never  dis 
tant  when  danger  was  to  be  braved,  appeared  in 
the  field,  and  a  musket  ball  soon  cut  off  a  lock  of 
hair  from  his  temple.  General  Heath  was  with  him, 
nor  does  there  appear  till  this  moment,  to  have 
been  any  effective  command  among  the  American 
forces. 

Below  West  Cambridge,  the  militia  from  Dor 
chester,  Roxbury,  and  Brookline  came  up.  The 
British  fieldpieces  began  to  lose  their  terror.  A 
sharp  skirmish  followed,  and  many  fell  on  both 
sides.  Indignation  and  outraged  humanity  strug 
gled  on  the  one  hand,  veteran  discipline  and  des 
peration  on  the  other  ;  and  the  contest,  in  more 
than  one  instance,  was  man  to  man,  and  bayonet 
to  bayonet. 

The  British  officers  had  been  compelled  to  de 
scend  from  their  horses  to  escape  the  certain  destruc 
tion,  which  attended  their  exposed  situation.  The 
wounded,  to  the  number  of  two  hundred,  now  pre 
sented  the  most  distressing  and  constantly  increas 
ing  obstruction  to  the  progress  of  the  march. 


41 

Near  one  hundred  brave  men  had  fallen  in  this 
disastrous  flight ;  a  considerable  number  had  been 
made  prisoners ;  a  round  or  two  of  ammunition 
only  remained ;  and  it  was  not  till  late  in  the 
evening,  nearly  twenty-four  hours  from  the  time 
when  the  first  detachment  was  put  in  motion,  that 
the  exhausted  remnant  reached  the  heights  of 
Charlestown.  The  boats  of  the  vessels  of  war 
were  immediately  employed  to  transport  the 
wounded  ;  the  remaining  British  troops  in  Boston 
carne  over  to  Charlestown  to  protect  their  weary 
countrymen  during  the  night ;  and  before  the  close 
of  the  next  day  the  royal  army  was  formally  be 
sieged  in  Boston. 

Such,  fellow  citizens,  imperfectly  sketched  in 
their  outline,  were  the  events  of  the  day  we  cele 
brate  ;  a  day  as  important  as  any  recorded  in  the/ 
history  of  man.  Such  were  the  first  of  a  series  of 
actions,  that  have  extensively  changed  and  are 
every  day  more  extensively  changing  the  condition 
and  prospects  of  the  human  race.  Such  were  the 
perils,  such  the  sufferings  of  our  fathers,  which  it 
has  pleased  Providence  to  crown  with  a  blessing 
beyond  the  most  sanguine  hopes  of  those  who 
then  ventured  their  all  in  the  cause. 
6 


42 

It  is  a  proud  anniversary  for  our  neighbourhood. 
We  have  cause  for  honest  complacency,  that  when 
the  distant  citizen  of  our  own  republic,  when  the 
stranger  from  foreign  lands,  inquires  for  the  spots 
where  the  noble  blood  of  the  revolution  began  to 
flow,  where  the  first  battle  of  that  great  and  glori 
ous  contest  was  fought,  he  is  guided  through  the 
villages  of  Middlesex,  to  the  plains  of  Lexington 
and  Concord.  It  is  a  commemoration  of  our  soil, 
to  \\hich  ages,  as  they  pass,  will  add  dignity  and 
interest ;  till  the  names  of  Lexington  and  Concord, 
in  the  annals  of  freedom,  will  stand  by  the  side  of 
the  most  honourable  names  in  Roman  or  Grecian 
story. 

It  was  one  of  those  great  days,  one  of  those 
elemental  occasions  in  the  world's  affairs,  when 
the  people  rise,  and  act  for  themselves.  Some 
organization  and  preparation  had  been  made ;  but, 
from  the  nature  of  the  case,  wdth  scarce  any  effect 
on  the  events  of  that  day.  It  may  be  doubted, 
whether  there  was  an  efficient  order  given  the 
whole  day  to  any  body  of  men,  as  large  as  a  regi 
ment.  It  was  the  people,  in  their  first  capacity, 
as  citizens  and  as  freemen,  starting  from  their  beds 
at  midnight,  from  their  firesides,  and  from  their 
fields,  to  take  their  own  cause  into  their  own 


43 

hands.  Such  a  spectacle  is  the  height  of  the  moral 
sublime  ;  when  the  want  of  every  thing  is  fully 
made  up  by  the  spirit  of  the  cause  ;  and  the  soul 
within  stands  in  place  of  discipline,  organization, 
resources.  In  the  prodigious  efforts  of  a  veteran 
army,  beneath  the  dazzling  splendor  of  their 
array,  there  is  something  revolting  to  the  reflective 
mind.  The  ranks  are  filled  with  the  desperate, 
the  mercenary,  the  depraved  ;  an  iron  slavery,  by 
the  name  of  subordination,  merges  the  free  will  of 
one  hundred  thousand  men,  in  the  unqualified  des 
potism  of  one  ;  the  humanity,  mercy,  and  remorse, 
which  scarce  ever  desert  the  individual  bosom,  are 
sounds  without  a  meaning  to  that  fearful,  ravenous, 
irrational  monster  of  prey,  a  mercenary  army. 
It  is  hard  to  say  who  are  most  to  be  commiserat 
ed,  the  wretched  people  on  whom  it  is  let  loose, 
or  the  still  more  wretched  people  whose  substance 
has  been  sucked  out,  to  nourish  it  into  strength 
and  fury.  But  in  the  efforts  of  the  people,  of 
the  people  struggling  for  their  rights,  moving  not 
in  organized,  disciplined  masses,  but  in  their  spon 
taneous  action,  man  for  man,  and  heart  for  heart, — 
though  I  like  not  war  nor  any  of  its  works, — 
there  is  something  glorious.  They  can  then  move 
forward  without  orders,  act  together  without  combi- 


44 

nation,  and  brave  the  flaming  lines  of  battle,  with 
out  entrenchments  to  cover,  or  walls  to  shield 
them.  No  dissolute  camp  has  worn  off  from  the 
feelings  of  the  youthful  soldier  the  freshness  of 
that,  home,  where  his  mother  and  his  sisters  sit 
waiting,  with  tearful  eyes  and  aching  hearts,  to 
hear  good  news  from  the  wars  ;  no  long  service  in 
the  ranks  of  a  conqueror  has  turned  the  veteran's 
heart  into  marble ;  their  valor  springs  not  from 
recklessness,  from  habit,  from  indifference  to  the 
preservation  of  a  life,  knit  by  no  pledges  to  the  life 
of  others.  But  in  the  strength  and  spirit  of  the 
cause  alone  they  act,  they  contend,  they  bleed.  In 
this,  they  conquer.  The  people  always  conquer. 
They  always  must  conquer.  Armies  may  be  de 
feated  ;  kings  may  be  overthrown,  and  new 
dynasties  imposed  by  foreign  arms  on  an  ignorant 
and  slavish  race,  that  care  not  in  what  language 
the  covenant  of  their  subjection  runs,  nor  in 
whose  name  the  deed  of  their  barter  and  sale  is 
made  out.  But  the  people  never  invade ;  and 
when  they  rise  against  the  invader,  are  never  sub 
dued.  If  they  are  driven  from  the  plains,  they  fly 
to  the  mountains.  Steep  rocks  and  everlasting 
hills  are  their  castles  ;  the  tangled,  pathless  thicket 
their  palisado,  and  nature, — God,  is  their  ally. 


45 

Now  he  overwhelms  the  hosts  of  their  enemies 
beneath  his  drifting  mountains  of  sand  ;  now  he 
buries  them  beneath  a  falling  atmosphere  of  polar 
snows ;  he  lets  loose  his  tempests  on  their  fleets  ; 
he  puts  a  folly  into  their  counsels,  a  madness  into 
the  hearts  of  their  leaders  ;  and  never  gave  and 
and  never  will  give  a  full  and  final  triumph  over  a 
virtuous,  gallant  people,  resolved  to  be  free. 

There  is  another  reflection,  which  deserves  to 
be  made,  while  we  dwell  on  the  events  of  the 
nineteenth  of  April.  It  was  the  work  of  the 
country.  The  cities  of  America,  particularly  the 
metropolis  of  our  own  state,  bore  their  part  nobly 
in  the  revolutionary  contest.  It  is  not  unjust  to 
say,  that  much  of  the  spirit  which  animated  Amer 
ica,  particularly  before  the  great  appeal  to  arms, 
grew  out  of  the  comparison  of  opinions  and  concert 
of  feeling,  which  might  not  have  existed,  without 
the  convenience  of  assembling  which  our  large 
towns  afford.  But  if  we  must  look  to  the  city  for 
a  part  of  the  impulse,  we  must  look  to  the  country 
at  large,  for  the  heart  to  be  moved, — for  the  strength 
and  vigor  to  persevere  in  the  motion.  It  was  the 
great  happiness" of  America,  that  her  cities  were  no 
larger,  no  more  numerous,  no  nearer  to  each  other  ; 
that  the  strength,  the  intelligence,  the  spirit  of  the 


46 

people   were  diffused  over   plains,  and   encamped 
on  the  hills. 

In  most  of  the  old  and  powerful  states  of  Europe, 
the  nation  is  identified  with  the  capital,  and  the  cap 
ital  with  the  court.  France  must  fall  with  the  cit 
izens  of  Paris,  and  the  citizens  of  Paris  with  a  few 
courtiers,  cabinet  ministers,  and  princes.  No  doubt 
the  English  ministry  thought  that  by  holding  Bos 
ton,  they  held  New  England  ;  that  the  country 
was  conquered  in  advance,  by  the  military  occu 
pation  of  the  great  towns.  They  did  not  know 
that  every  town  and  village  in  America  had  discuss 
ed  the  great  questions  at  issue  for  itself;  and  in 
its  town-meetings,  and  committees  of  correspond 
ence  and  safety,  had  come  to  the  resolution,  that 
America  must  not  be  taxed  by  England.  The  Eng 
lish  government  did  not  understand, — we  hardly 
understood,  ourselves,  till  we  saw  it  in  action, — 
the  operation  of  a  state  of  society,  where  every  man 
is  or  may  be  a  freeholder,  a  voter  for  every  elec 
tive  office,  a  candidate  for  every  one  ;  where  the 
means  of  a  good  education  are  universally  accessi 
ble  ;  where  the  artificial  distinctions  of  society  are 
known  but  in  a  slight  degree  ;  where  glaring  con 
trasts  of  condition  are  rarely  met  with  ;  where  few 
are  raised  by  the  extreme  of  wealth  above  their 


47 

fellow-men,  and  fewer  sunk  by  the  extreme  of 
poverty  beneath  it.  The  English  ministry  had 
not  reasoned  upon  the  natural  growth  of  such  a 
soil ;  that  it  could  not  permanently  bear  either  a 
colonial,  or  a  monarchical  government ;  that  the 
only  true  and  native  growth  of  such  a  soil  was  a 
perfect  independence  and  an  intelligent  republican 
ism.  Independence,  because  such  a  country  must 
disdain  to  go  over  the  water  to  find  another  to 
protect  it ;  Republicanism,  because  the  people  of 
such  a  country  must  disdain  to  look  up  for  protec 
tion  to  any  one  class  among  themselves.  The  entire 
action  of  these  principles  was  unfolded  to  the  world 
on  the  nineteenth  of  April,  1775.  Without  waiting 
to  take  an  impulse  from  any  thing  but  their  own 
breasts,  and  in  defiance  of  the  whole  exerted  powers 
of  the  British  empire,  the  yeomanry  of  the  country 
rose  as  a  man,  and  set  their  lives  on  this  dear  stake 
of  liberty. 

When  we  look  back  on  the  condition  in  which 
America  stood  on  the  19th  of  April,  1775;  and 
compare  it  with  that  in  which  it  stands  this  day, 
we  can  find  no  language  of  gratitude  with  which 
to  do  justice  to  those,  who  took  the  lead  in  the 
revolutionary  cause.  The  best  gratitude,  the  best 


48 

thanks,  will  be  an  imitation  of  their  example.  It 
would  he  an  exceedingly  narrow  view  of  the  part 
assigned  to  this  country  on  the  stage  of  the  na 
tions,  to  consider  the  erection  of  an  independent 
and  representative  government  as  the  only  political 
object  at  \vhich  the  revolution  aimed,  and  the 
only  political  improvement  which  our  duty  re 
quires.  These  are  two  all-important  steps,  indeed, 
in  the  work  of  meliorating  the  state  of  society. 
The  first  gives  the  people  of  America  the  sovereign 
power  of  carrying  its  will  into  execution ;  the 
second  furnishes  an  equitable  and  convenient  mode 
of  ascertaining  what  the  will  of  the  people  is. 
But  shall  we  stop  here?  shall  we  make  no  use  of 
these  two  engines,  by  whose  combined  action 
every  individual  mind  enjoys  a  share  in  the  sove 
reign  power  of  this  great  nation  ?  Most  of  the 
civil  and  social  institutions  which  still  exist  in 
the  country,  were  brought  by  our  fathers  from  the 
old  world,  and  are  strongly  impressed  with  the 
character  of  the  state  of  society  which  there  prevails. 
Under  the  influence  of  necessity,  these  institu 
tions  have  been  partially  reformed,  and  rendered, 
to  a  certain  degree,  harmonious  with  the  nature  of 
a  popular  government.  But  much  remains  to  be 
done,  to  make  the  work  of  revolution  complete. 


49 

The  whole  business  of  public  instruction,  of  the 
administration  of  justice,  of  military  defence  in 
time  of  peace,  needs  to  be  revolutionized  ;  that  is, 
to  be  revised  and  made  entirely  conformable  to  the 
interests  and  wishes  of  the  great  mass.  It  is  time, 
in  short,  to  act  upon  the  maxim  in  which  the  wis^ 
dom  of  all  ages  is  wrapped  up,  THE  VOICE  OF  THE 
PEOPLE  is  THE  VOICE  OF  GOD.  Apart  from  in 
spired  revelation,  there  is  no  way,  in  which  the 
will  of  heaven  is  made  known,  but  by  the  sound, 
collective  sense  of  the  majority  of  men.  It  is 
given  to  no  privileged  family,  to  no  hereditary 
ruler  ;  it  is  given  to  no  commanding  genius  ;  it  is 
given  to  no  learned  sage  ;  it  is  given  to  no  circle 
of  men  to  pronounce  this  sacred  voice.  It  must 
be  uttered  by  the  people,  in  their  own  capacity  ; 
and  whensoever  it  is  uttered,  I  say  not  it  ought 
to  be,  but  that  it  will  be  obeyed. 

But  it  is  time  to  relieve  your  patience.  I  need 
not  labor  to  impress  you  with  a  sense  of  the  duty, 
which  devolves  on  those,  whose  sires  achieved  the 
ever  memorable  exploits  of  this  day.  The  lesson, 
I  know,  has  not  been  lost  upon  you.  Nowhere 
have  the  spirit  and  principles  of  the  revolution 
preserved  themselves  in  greater  purity;  nowhere 
have  the  institutions,  to  which  the  revolution  led, 
7 


50 

been  more  firmly  cherished.  The  toils  and  suffer 
ings  of  that  day  were  shared  by  a  glorious  band 
of  patriots,  whose  name  was  your  boast  while 
living  ;  whose  memory  you  will  never  cease  to 
cherish.  The  day  we  commemorate  called  the 
noble  farmer  of  Middlesex — the  heroic  Prescott — to 
the  field,  and  impelled  him,  not  to  accept,  but  to 
solicit  the  post  of  honor  and  danger,  on  the  17th 
of  June  : — noble  I  call  him,  for  when  did  coronet 
or  diadem  ever  confer  distinction,  like  the  glory 
which  rests  on  that  man's  name.  In  the  perils  of 
this  day,  the  venerable  Gerry  bore  his  part.  This 
was  the  day,  which  called  the  lamented  Brooks 
and  Eustis  to  their  country's  service  ;  which  en 
listed  them,  blooming  in  the  freshness  and  beauty 
of  youth,  in  that  sacred  cause,  to  which  the 
strength  of  their  manhood  and  the  grey  hairs  of 
their  age  were  devoted.  The  soil  which  holds 
their  honored  dust  shall  never  be  unworthy  of 
them. 

What  pride  did  you  not  justly  feel  in  that  soil, 
when  you  lately  welcomed  the  nation's  guest — the 
venerable  champion  of  America — to  the  spot,  where 
that  first  note  of  struggling  freedom  was  uttered, 
which  sounded  across  the  the  Atlantic,  and  drew 
him  from  all  the  delights  of  life,,  to  enlist  in  our 


51 

cause.  Here,  you  could  tell  him,  our  fathers 
fought  and  fell,  before  they  knew  whether  another 
arm  would  be  raised  to  second  them. — No  Wash 
ington  had  appeared  to  lead,  no  Lafayette  had 
hastened  to  assist,  no  charter  of  independence  had 
yet  breathed  the  breath  of  life  into  the  cause,  when 
the  19th  of  April  called  our  fathers  to  the  field. 
What  remains,  then,  but  to  guard  the  precious 
birthright  of  our  liberties  ;  to  draw  from  the  soil 
which  we  inhabit,  a  consistency  in  the  principles 
so  nobly  vindicated,  so  sacredly  sealed  thereon. 
It  shall  never  be  said,  while  distant  regions, 
wheresoever  the  temples  of  freedom  are  reared, 
are  sending  back  their  hearts  to  the  plains  of  Lex 
ington  and  Concord,  for  their  brighest  and  purest 
examples  of  patriotic  daring,  that  we  whose  lives 
are  cast  on  these  favoured  spots,  can  become  in 
different  to  the  exhortation,  which  breathes  to  us 
from  every  sod  of  the  valley.  Those  principles, 
which  others  may  adopt  on  the  colder  ground  of 
their  reason  and  their  truth,  we  are  bound  to  sup 
port  by  the  dearest  and  deepest  feelings.  Where 
soever  the  torch  of  liberty  shall  expire,  where 
soever  the  manly  simplicity  of  our  land  shall  perish 
beneatu  the  poison  of  luxury,  wheresoever  the  cause 
which  called  our  fathers  this  day  to  arms,  and  the 


52 

principles  which  sustained  their  hearts  in  that  stern 
encounter,  may  be  deserted  or  betrayed, — it  shall 
not,  fellow  citizens,  it  shall  not  be,  on  the  soil 
which  was  moistened  with  their  blood.  The  names 
of  Marathon  and  Thermopylae,  after  ages  of  sub 
jection,  still  nerve  the  arm  of  the  Grecian  patriot  ; 
and  should  the  foot  of  a  tyrant,  or  of  a  slave,  ap 
proach  these  venerated  spots,  the  noble  hearts  that 
bled  at  Lexington  and  Concord,  "  all  dust  as  they 
are,"  *  would  beat  beneath  the  sod  with  indigna 
tion. 

Honor,  this  day,  to  the  venerable  survivors  of 
that  momentous  day,  which  tried  men's  souls. 
Great  is  the  happiness  they  are  permitted  to  enjoy, 
in  uniting,  within  the  compass  of  their  own  expe 
rience,  the  doubtful  struggles  and  the  full  blown 
prosperity  of  our  happy  land.  May  they  share  the 
welfare  they  witness  around  them  ;  it  is  the  work 
of  their  hands,  the  fruit  of  their  toils,  the  price  of 
their  lives  freely  hazarded  that  their  children 
might  live  free.  Bravely  they  dared  ;  patiently, 
aye  more  than  patiently, — heroically,  piously, 
they  suffered ;  largely,  richly,  may  they  enjoy. 

Most  of  their   companions   are   already  departed  ; 

t> 

*  Bossuet ;  Oraison  ftmebre  de  la  Reine  d'  Angleterre. 


53 

let  us  renew  our  tribute  of  respect  this  day  to  their 
honored  memory.  Numbers  present  will  recol 
lect  the  affecting  solemnities,  with  which  you  ac 
companied  to  his  last  home,  the  brave,  the  lament 
ed  Buttrick.  With  trailing  banners,  and  mournful 
music,  and  all  the  touching  ensigns  of  military 
sorrow,  you  followed  the  bier  of  the  fallen  soldier, 
over  the  ground  where  he  led  the  determined  band 
of  patriots  on  the  morn  of  the  revolution. 

But  chiefly  to  those  who  fell  ;  to  those  who  stood 
in  the  breach,  at  the  breaking  of  that  day  of  blood 
at  Lexington  ;  to  those  who  joined  in  battle  and 
died  honorably,  facing  the  foe  at  Concord ;  to 
those  who  fell  in  the  gallant  pursuit  of  the  flying 
enemy  ; — let  us  this  day  pay  a  tribute  of  grateful 
admiration.  The  old  and  the  young ;  the  grey- 
haired  veteran,  the  stripling  in  the  flower  of  youth  ; 
husbands,  fathers,  brethren,  sons  ; — they  stood  side 
by  side,  and  fell  together,  like  the  beauty  of  Israel 
on  their  high  places. 

We  have  founded  this  day  a  monument  to  their 
memory.  When  the  hands  that  rear  it  are  motion 
less,  when  the  feeble  voice  is  silent,  which  speaks 
our  fathers'  praise,  the  engraven  stone  shall  bear 
witness  to  other  ages,  of  our  gratitude  and  their 
worth.  And  ages  still  farther  on,  when  the  mon- 


54 

•ument  itself,  like  those  who  build  it,  shall  have 
crumbled  to  dust,  the  happy  aspect  of  the  land 
which  our  fathers  redeemed,  the  liberty  they 
achieved,  the  institutions  they  founded,  shall  re 
main  one  common,  eternal  monument  to  their 
precious  memory. 


NOTES. 


Note  A,  page  20. 

THAT  the  lanterns  were  observed  in  Charlestown,  we  are 
informed  by  Colonel  Revere,  in  the  interesting  communication 
in  the  Collections  of  the  Historical  Society,  from  which  this 
part  of  the  narrative  is  chiefly  taken.  A  tradition  by  private 
channels  has  descended,  that  these  lanterns  in  the  North  Church 
were  quickly  noticed  by  the  officers  of  the  British  army,  on 
duty  on  the  evening  of  the  18th.  To  prevent  the  alarm  being 
communicated  by  these  signals  into  the  country,  the  British 
officers,  who  had  noticed  them,  hastened  to  the  church  to  ex 
tinguish  them.  Their  steps  were  heard  on  the  stairs  in  the 
tower  of  the  church,  by  the  sexton,  who  had  lighted  the  lanterns* 
To  escape  discovery,  he  himself  extinguished  the  lanterns,  and 
passing  by  the  officers  on  the  stairs,  concealed  himself  in  the 
vaults  of  the  church.  He  was,  a  day  or  two  after,  arrested, 
while  discharging  the  duties  of  his  office  at  a  funeral,  tried,  and 
condemned  to  death ;  tiut  respited  on  a  threat  of  retaliation 
from  Gen.  Washington,  and  finally  exchanged.  This  anecdote 


56 

was  related  to  me,  with  many  circumstances  of  particularity, 
by  one  who  had  often  heard  it  from  the  sexton  himself. 


Mote  B,page  21. 

The  manner  in  which  Colonel  Revere  was  received  at  Lex 
ington,  which  is  not  related  in  his  own  letter,  will  appear  from 
the  following  extract  from  the  deposition  of  Colonel  William 
Munroe,  which,  with  several  other  similar  interesting  docu 
ments,  forms  a  part  of  the  Appendix  to  the  pamphlet  alluded 
to  in  the  next  note. 

"  About  midnight,  Colonel  Paul  Revere  rode  up  and  request 
ed  admittance.  I  told  him  the  family  had  just  retired,  and  re 
quested  they  might  not  be  disturbed  by  any  noise  about  the 
house.  (  Noise ."  said  he,  e  you  ?11  have  noise  enough  before 
long.  The  regulars  are  coming  out.'  We  then  permitted  him 
to  pass."  p.  33. 


Note  C,page  30. 

It  will  be  perceived,  that,  in  drawing  up  the  account  of  the 
transactions  at  Lexington,  reference  has  been  had  to  the  testi 
mony  contained  in  the  pamphlet  lately  published,  entitled, 
"  History  of  the  Battle  at  Lexington,  on  the  morning  of  the  19th 
of  April,  1775.  By  Elias  Phinney."  While  in  this  pamphlet 


57 

several  interesting  facts  are  added,  on  the  strength  of  the  de 
positions  of  surviving  actors  in  the  scene,  to  the  accounts  pre 
viously  existing;  there  is  nothing,  perhaps,  in  them,  which 
may  not  be  reconciled  with  those  previously  existing  accounts, 
if  due  allowance  be  made  for  the  sole  object  for  which  the  lat 
ter  were  originally  published — to  show  that  the  British  were  the 
aggressors  ; — for  the  hurry  and  confusion  of  the  moment ;  and 
for  the  different  aspect  of  the  scene  as  witnessed  by  different 
persons,  from  different  points  of  view.  It  has,  however,  been 
my  aim  not  to  pronounce  on  questions  in  controversy  ;  but  to 
state  the  impression  left  on  my  own  mind  after  an  attentive 
examination  of  all  the  evidence. 


Note  D,page  39. 

An  interesting  anecdote  relative  to  this  march  of  Lord  Percy 
has  been  communicated  to  me  by  a  veteran  of  the  Revolution, 
who  bore  his  part  in  the  events  of  the  day.  Intelligence  hav 
ing  been  promptly  received  of  Lord  Percy's  being  detached,  the 
Selectmen  of  Cambridge,  by  order  of  the  Committee  of  Safety  9 
caused  the  planks  of  the  Old  Bridge  to  be  taken  up.  Had  this 
been  effectually  done,  it  would  have  arrested  the  progress  of 
Lord  Percy.  But  the  planks,  though  all  taken  up,  instead  of 
being  thrown  into  the  river  or  removed  to  a  distance,  were 
piled  up  on  the  causeway,  at  the  Cambridge  end  of  the  bridge. 

8 


i 


MTURN  TO  DESK  FROM  wX  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 


APR  9    'iS63 


JUN^l^m 


Lp  21A-50m-4,'60 
(A9562slO)476B 


.General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


fcl 


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:v 


